Trouble in Naples
by Pidraya
Summary: Wherein Gibbs gets shot. This is the prequel to 'Positano'.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's** **note:**  
_

For _**MarciaRebafan** _.. whose stories you should seriously check out.

* * *

_**Conference Room at the Naval Base in Sigonella , Sicily**_

_**Monday, February 7th, 1999**_

_**1130**_

"Am I boring you, Agent Shepard?"

Jen drew the sleeve back over her watch hastily and flashed the instructor a smile.

"Not at all."

"While we might _think _we see the world as it is," the man droned on, "we in fact perceive it the way _we are. "_Now imagine, if you will, a law enforcement environment where professionals recognize the value of diversity and move beyond judgments, _and bias_, to become role models of cultural leadership and change."

The woman sitting next to her fluttered her lips when he started to run a slide show.

"I don't think I can handle another two days of this," she whispered.

"And I can't decide if this is about working together or covering our collective asses against legal exposure."

The woman covered her mouth as she chuckled, and Jen took advantage of the dimmed lights to sink lower in her seat and close her eyes. She'd realized ten minutes into the diversity training course that the only way to survive it was going to be to think in increments of time. An hour till coffee break, then an hour's worth of workshops. Another break, then another hour of prattle. And so on.

Thirty minutes to lunch at this point – and then she'd call Pat and do a bit of venting.

* * *

_**Naples Field Office  
**_

_**1205**_

"Did that seafood taste good to you last night?" Callen asked as he touched his abdomen gingerly.

"You mean the seafood we never got a chance to taste?" Pacci replied with a sardonic smile.

"Something was off." Callen shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another as his gut twinged again. "How much longer do you think this is going to take?"

"Pretty damn long," Gibbs said as he walked by and tossed a clip board at him, " and it's all yours. Finish the threat assessment and meet us back at the office. Pacci, with me."

"Where are _you_ gonna be?" Callen called after him.

"Got a break in the case," Gibbs tossed over his shoulder as he strode away.

"The surveillance equipment did the trick then?" Pacci asked as he hurried after him.

"Yup."

"Sweet."

Ten minutes later they were standing in the presence of the Base Exchange manager and a brunette they'd become familiar with over the past few days.

"Agente Gibbs," she said with a slight incline of her head.

"Commissario Barbera," Gibbs said. "What've we got?"

"The surveillance cameras caught her redhanded about forty minutes ago," the manager said. Clearly relieved that an end to his nightmare was in sight.

"Where is she?"

"This way," the Commissario said as she led the way to a small office down the hall. "Although I do have to warn you, she is hysterical."

The first thing that struck Gibbs when he entered the makeshift interrogation room was that the suspect was nowhere as hysterical as she seemed – but he held his peace and watched.

"Signora, sit down please," Barbera said irritably as the woman rose from her chair. "Sit."

Gibbs watched for a moment longer, and then he tossed his file on the table, turned a chair around, and sat astride it.

"Sit!" he said sharply before he slid a few papers in front of her. "Talk."

The woman chewed her lower lip for a moment, and then gave him a look of pure hatred.

"Ho tre bambini, e quel figlio di puttana mi ha costretto a .."

Gibbs slammed his hand down on the table once, and she jumped.

"In English," he said as he fixed her with a hard glare, "because I know damn well you speak it or you wouldn't be working here."

For a moment the woman looked as though she might retaliate, but then her shoulders slumped. Gibbs tapped the documents he'd put in front of her. "Papers say you're behind on your taxes," he pointed out. "You don't tell me what I wanna know, that's gonna become relevant."

The story came spilling out seconds later.

Nothing he hadn't heard before, but it angered him nonetheless.

The husband who had run off years before leaving her with three kids; no child support because the police hadn't been able to track him down; and the worthless boyfriend who didn't work, lived off her, and had come up with a scheme for her to steal US goods from the base exchange and sell them on the black market.

"Is this him?" Gibbs asked as he slid a photo, courtesy of the _Polizia di Stato_, across the table at her.

"Yes."

He steepled his fingers across the folder and looked straight at her.

"I need you to tell me where he is," he said. His voice wasn't so much gentler as more empathetic, but it worked just the same.

"A casa," she said in a whisper. "At home."

Gibbs rifled through the sheets and found the address. When he had, he stood from the seat without another word.

He ignored the anguished cry of "_please don't hurt him. Non gli faccia del male,"_ as he made to walk out of the room - but when Commissario Barbera made no move to follow him, he turned and looked straight at her.

"You waitin' for an invitation?"

* * *

_**Sigonella/Naples**_

_**1220**_

"Anything new with the case?" Jenny asked as she let a piece of pasta frolla melt in her mouth.

"Nah. Just more of Commissario Barbie battin' her eyelashes at Gibbs," Pat replied as she applied varnish to her toenails. "How's it going over there?"

"The instructor's got an axe to grind and nobody has a sense of humour. I'm bored out of my gourd."

"What's the matter, Shepard? Losing your touch? Come on … some razamatazz! Do I need to come over there and remind you how it's done? You've been hanging around Gibbs and Pacci too long, you know that?"

"Speaking of .." Jenny said, "are my team still out doing the threat assessment?"

"Last I heard." Pat closed the varnish bottle and looked around. "Just me in the office at the moment. Everyone's out to lunch. Hang on ..."

"What are you doing?" Jen asked as suspicious noises came down the line.

"Dropping some nail clippings into the coffee jar in Chuck's desk," Pat replied nonchalantly.

"_Why?_"

"He's starting to piss me off, that's why. Every time he sees me it's like _Whoa Black Betty_. It's getting old. _And_ he put up photos of you and me on that table all over town yesterday. With _my_ phone number on them. Bad form."

"So you're leaving toe nail clippings in his coffee jar .." Jen qualified.

"For starters."

"For _starters_?"

"Little things first, Jen. Littl - _shit_, someone's coming. Gotta go."

Jen looked at the phone for a long moment after she'd hung up, and then tried Jethro's number.

He didn't answer.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Downtown Naples**_

_**1300**_

Anger permeated the air as they stepped out of the vehicle.

Hostility aimed their way by young men and women who loitered in the street and pressed closer as Gibbs and Barbera made their way towards the front door.

As they let themselves into the apartment building, Gibbs found himself wondering whether his counterpart was wearing a vest; but she was banging on the suspect's door before he had finished formulating the thought.

"Alberto Ricci! Apri! Polizia!"

Not quite the way he would have gone about it, but sounds of scuffling from inside told them that their suspect was trying to get out.

Most likely through a window.

As he regained his balance from kicking the door in, he recognized the signs of adrenaline rush in Barbera - but wasn't quick enough to stop her from barging in without clearing the room first.

At the other end of the room, Ricci was struggling with a half-open window; his uncoordinated movements testament to the fact that he was drunk, stoned, or both.

As he turned, his face a bleak picture of fear and indecision, Gibbs watched the scene unfold in slow motion.

Barbera shouting in Italian as she advanced; Ricci tripping over his own feet as he lunged for the gun on a nearby dresser; Barbera bringing her gun up to eye level; Ricci panicking as he whirled round.

Gibbs lunged, shoving Barbera out of the way before Ricci pulled the trigger, and felt the nausea of pain rise in his throat as the bullet ripped through him.

As he stumbled forward, he angled his body for a kill shot, but Barbera fired from her crouching position first.

Dropping Ricci to the ground with one perfectly-executed shot.

* * *

_**NCIS Field Office**_

_**1320**_

"Pat .."

"Hey Ducky .." Her smile was bright as she looked up – but faded immediately the moment she saw the look on his face. "What is it?"

"I'm going to need your language skills, my dear," he said sombrely.

"What happened?" she asked, already reaching for her coat.

"Jethro's been shot."

Pat took one look at him and snatched the car keys from his hand.

"I'm driving," was all she said.

* * *

_**Sigonella**_

_**1340**_

Jenny excused herself and walked outside the building.

Her stomach felt as though it was on fire.

Something wasn't right – she was sure of it.

Jethro wasn't answering his phone.

That was not unusual, but the fact that nobody else was either didn't sit well with her.

She looked at her watch again, and punched in Pat's number.

* * *

_**Waiting room of Ospedale San Giovanni Bosco, Naples**_

Pat watched as Ducky flipped through Jethro's charts.

"Here .." he indicated.

"The ER doctor requested lab work," she translated. "Blood type and cross match. Complete blood count and checked .. _electrolyte levels?_"

"Yes."

Her finger ran over the words. "Started an IV .. plus five milligrams of IV morphine for immediate pain control. Bet _that_ made his head spin a little. Clothing removed, wound assessed, effort made to stop bleeding ..."

"We're looking for X-Ray results."

"_Here_. X-ray showed no bullet fragments. Clean shot through muscle. In and out. Didn't hit the … _iliac_ something?"

"Bony part of the hip," Ducky supplied.

"Right. So they .. checked it out in the surgical suite while the patient was sedated. No internal damage found. Entry and exit wounds inspected and … irrigated?"

Ducky nodded. "Ringer lactate solution or .. whatever they use here. What else?"

"Sterile dressing applied to area to reduce any further bleeding and swelling. Surgery lasted one hour, and he should be in _Recovery_ for ..." she looked at her watch, "at least another twenty minutes."

"Hey .." Pacci said as he and Callen walked up. "Any news yet?"

"Well," Ducky began as he put the chart down. "Jethro sustained a gunshot wound that entered and then made a clean exit through the external oblique muscle and the lower portion of his _latissimus dorsi_. The bullet entered the muscle immediately above his left hip and exited through the largest muscle that connects his back to the lower portion of his body," he added when bemused looks were levelled at him. "Damage was limited to muscle."

"So he'll be okay .." Callen said warily.

"Yes. You can expect him to be in _unbearable patient mode_ in an hour or two, on his feet in a couple of days, and back to work a few days after that."

"Great," Pacci groaned.

"I assume one of you gentlemen will be with him when he comes round?" Ducky asked. "I need to see about getting him transferred. Chris?"

"Uh .. paperwork," Pacci began. "Callen .."

"Needs to help _with the paperwork_," the young agent said hurriedly. "Pat?"

"Oh for God's sake," she crowed. "And you call yourselves _men_! What do you think he's gonna do? Bite? Ask you to hold his bed pan?" She shook her head in disgust. "_I'll _stay," she assured Ducky.

A smile tugged at the corner of the medical examiner's mouth, but he merely nodded.

"I will check in with you later."

"What about … um ..." Callen began, nodding at Commissario Barbera standing tight-lipped by a window.

"You leave _her_ to _me_," Pat said as she walked towards her. "And one of you _pussies_ better be bringing me dinner this evening. _And_ buying me drinks for the rest of the month."

* * *

_**Sigonella**_

_**1500**_

Jenny fought back frustration as she threw her phone into the sink in the ladies' room.

Resisting the impulse to call back and tell Decker to screw himself .. as colourfully as she could.

Rushing to Jethro's bedside would be a spectacularly bad idea, she knew that. But the pleasure in Will's voice as he'd told her that she needed to stay put, had been unmistakeable.

On top of that he hadn't told her what had gone down exactly.

But then neither had Pat.

All she knew was that Jethro had taken a bullet for someone – and in all probability that _someone_ was Commissario Barbera.

* * *

_**Gibbs' room**_

_**Ospedale San Giovanni Bosco, Naples.**_

_**1555**_

Everything hurt – and on top of that someone was talking.

And nudging his leg.

"I know you're awake."

Gibbs opened his eyes slowly.

The lights were dim but the silhouette was definitely female.

"Jen .." It was little more than a croak.

"You wish, buddy."

"Pat?"

"Guilty as charged." She prodded him with her toes one more time, and then lowered her feet to the ground. "You feelin' like crap yet?"

"Need some water."

"To drink or an enema? Because I would happily oblige you on that second one, you know," she said with a grin as she stood up.

"Uhh .. drink." He looked at her in confusion, and then slurred, "was that a joke?"

"Oh brother," Pat said as she stuffed a straw into his mouth with as much force as she dared apply. "T_hrow up on me and I'll make you eat it,_" she added as he took a long draw.

She was watching him, trying to decide how much fun she could have at his expense, when a voice interrupted them.

"Scusi, ma chi e' lei?"

Pat looked up to find an butch-looking nurse in the doorway.

"Sono la moglie," she said without batting an eyelid.

"What did you tell her?" Gibbs asked when she was gone.

"That I was your wife."

Gibbs spluttered on his drink and Pat shook her head again.

"I was married to a man like you once, Gibbs."

"Uh-huh."

"Kicked him to the kerb after six and a half years. Wanna know why?"

"Nope."

"Well then no more drink for _you_," she said as she plucked the straw from his mouth and set the glass down.

She settled back into the armchair and propped her feet back up on the bed.

"Am I going to have to do all the talking?" she asked an hour later when he had come round completely and didn't seem inclined to communicate.

"Why are you here?"

"Because none of your crackerjack team wants to be," she shot back. "Apparently you're a lousy patient."

Gibbs had barely started to push up off the pillow when the pain stabbed him.

"And you think you're going _where?_" Pat asked as she held him in place with a fingertip.

"Call Ducky. I want outta here," he said breathlessly.

"Ducky's busting his chops trying to get you transferred to the Naval Hospital."

He looked at her in confusion for a second, and then repeated, "outta here. _Now_."

Pat rolled her eyes and reached over him. Pushing the button on his PCA aggressively once, and then one more time for good measure.

"I like you better when you're asleep," she muttered as the double dose of morphine dropping into his IV line pulled him under.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Gibbs' room**_

_**Ospedale San Giovanni Bosco, Naples**_

_**February 11th, 1999**_

_**1230**_

"So when she finally gets to check out, one of her items has no price tag. The cashier gets on his PA thingy and says_ price check on lane thirteen. Tampax. Super size. _Some idiot in back hears _thumb tacks_ for tampax, and replies, _do you want the kind you push in with your thumb or the kind you pound in with a hammer? _You know, Gibbs, you could at least _pretend _you think it's funny," Pat growled.

"Hurts to smile."

His companion rolled her eyes and went back to filing her nails.

Contemplating how hard it was going to be to slip a chili pepper past Ducky's underwear for not telling her just _how lousy_ a patient Gibbs would end up being.

"Lunch time," an orderly said as he walked into the room.

Gibbs hand edged towards the bowl's metal cover – only to be slapped away by Pat's.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed as she dipped a spoon into the soup and raised it to her mouth.

"Half the staff want you gone already," she said slowly. "There is a distinct possibility that someone might try to poison you."

"Pat …"

"You need to work on your sickbed routine. You don't sound half as scary when you're laid up," she said as she leaned over the bowl and hocked rather loudly.

Gibbs shook his head as she pretended to spit into his bowl.

"Go home."

"And deprive you of my company? Nah! Besides," she said as she reached into her handbag, "if I go you won't get _these_."

He looked warily at the hand moving towards his mouth.

"Ferrero's greatest chocolate," she said as she popped one into his mouth. "_Pocket Coffee_. Went out and got some while you were napping this morning. But I'm warning you," she added as she slipped the packet under the sheets, "if they catch you with these .. you're on your own."

Gibbs tried to mumble something in response, but the sensation of _espresso_ sliding down his throat was more than a little distracting. He tried to shoot her an appreciative look, but her attention had been snagged by someone else.

"Permesso ..."

"Took her long enough," Pat muttered snidely as Commissario Barbera hovered in the doorway holding a large ficus plant. "And look she brought you the poisonous variety too!"

If she heard her, the policewoman gave no indication. Instead she approached the bed.

"How are you feeling, Agente Gibbs?"

"Don't believe a word he says," Pat interjected before he could say a word. "He's loopy on pain meds."

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

"_Are you in a lot of pain?_" Pat stood behind her and imitated her soundlessly – a look of utter disdain on her face – until Barbera turned around and caught her.

"Look, I know NCIS thinks I didn't follow protocol, but - "

"If you'd followed protocol, Gibbs wouldn't be lying there with a hole in his side, and .."

"Pat .." the man in question growled from the bed.

But her eyes were blazing and she'd pulled herself up to her full height.

"Where I come from, the _antebellum South_," she drawled, "no woman needs a man to take a bullet for her. You're both lucky you're not six feet under by now. _Didn't follow protocol_," she sneered. "Were you that desperate to prove yourself? Or were you just trying to impress Gibbs? Well you impressed him alright. With a 5cm scar! Bet he'll think of you every time he looks at it."

"I did not come here to be insulted," Barbera said as she held her ground. "I came here to see if there was anything I could to to help, and .. to apologize."

"Yeah well I have news for you, darlin'. In _that_ man's book," Pat said as she hooked a thumb at him, "apologies are a sign o'weakness."

Barbera looked as though she'd been slapped.

"That's enough," Gibbs said, his voice steely. "Go cool off."

Pat opened her mouth to argue and then snapped it shut again. But as she stalked towards the door, she almost bumped into the incoming nurse.

He stared at the room's occupants for a long moment, and then addressed Pat.

"Suo marito ha avuto qualche disturbo intenstinale?"

All of Pat's anger fell away instantly, and she looked innocently at Comissario Barbera

"Would you like to field this one?" she asked sweetly. "I'm not quite sure what he means."

Barbera's eyes widened.

"He would like to know if you have been .. eh .. how do you say .. passing gas?"

Gibbs wished they would all just go away.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Pat opening her mouth to let rip with some comeback. Barbera looked as though she wished the earth would open and swallow her up, and the nurse was brandishing what looked suspiciously like a sterile urine cup.

"Abbiamo bisogno di un campione," he said as he placed the cup in Pat's hands.

"They need a .. sample," the Italian officer translated, flushing bright red all over again.

Pat resisted the urge to guffaw and flashed a bright smile at Commissario Barbera instead.

"You said wanted to help," she said as she tossed her the cup. "Guess you got your wish."

* * *

_**Sigonella / Ospedale San Giovanni Bosco**_

_**1630**_

Pat picked up the ringing phone.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs' personal answering service. How can I help you?"

"Pat?" Jenny sounded incredulous.

"Hey. I'm packing Gibbs' bag," Pat explained before Jenny could ask what she was doing. "Ducky managed to get him transferred to the Naval Hospital."

"How is he?"

"More of a pain in the ass than usual?"

Jenny chuckled. "Where is he?"

"Taking a leak. They told him they'd let him go if he could pee by himself, so he's peein'. Probably all over the floor, but he's peein'."

"Where's Ducky?"

"Outside, waiting for transport."

"But Jethro's doing okay?"

"Yeah yeah. They have him on pain meds. When are you back?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Good, coz you're gonna owe me big. Want me to tell the big guy you called? Hang on .. okay, transport's here. Gotta go. I'll tell Gibbs you called to check up on him."

The line went dead.

Jenny looked at her watch and picked up her suitcase.

Screw Decker.

She had just enough time to get to the airport, she reckoned.

In Naples, Pat looked up to find Gibbs standing in the doorway, trailing an IV stand.

"Never said you could answer my phone," he snarled.

"Ah come on Gibbs," she said with a yawn. "Get off your soap box before I _push_ you off."

* * *

_**Naples Field Office**_

_**1645**_

Pacci watched in amusement as a young woman walked up to Callen's desk.

"Hey."

"Hey." He almost jumped out of his skin. "Laura .. hi."

"Ready to go?"

"Almo-"

"You lucky bastards!" Calhoun's voice interrupted.

He slapped a piece of paper onto Pacci's desk.

"What is it?" Chris asked as he angled the piece of paper towards him.

"New roster. Looks like you guys are off for the next twelve days."

Pacci's eyes lit up as he said, "I can surprise Ellen."

"Take her a diamond or something." They turned to find a very amused-looking Laura perched on Callen's desk. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend?" she asked with a shrug.

Calhoun let out a laugh and stuck out his hand.

"Calhoun."

"Laura."

"Got a last name, Laura?"

"Yes, and you don't need to know it," Callen said as he pulled her off the desk and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Keep your paws to yourself. So if we're off for the next twelve days ..." he said to Pacci.

"World's your oyster, kid."

Laura smiled at him, and then turned her attention back to Callen.

"I can get the keys to my uncle's apartment in Sorrento .." she said mischievously.

"_Rowr_," Calhoun said. Making her blush. "So whatcha gonna do?" he asked Pacci when they were gone.

"Get the hell outta here before Gibbs gets out of the hospital and decides we don't _need_ twelve days off," Chris said as he picked up the phone and punched in the airline's number.

* * *

_**Gibbs' room**_

_**Naval Hospital, Naples**_

_**2030**_

_It's like a sharp thin javelin running through the skin between your waist and your hip, _his brain supplied as he dispensed some analgesic to help manage the pain. As a general rule he hated the feeling meds gave him, but in the solitude of darkness, when he didn't have to watch what he said, he allowed himself the respite that he needed.

The only thing to be grateful for was the fact that Pat was conspicuously absent, but as the hydromorphone started to work, the thought that Jenny would be back in less than twenty-four hours crossed his mind over and over.

Providing a sense of security he hadn't experienced in a very long time.

It had been a long day, he thought as he felt his eyelids begin to droop, but Jenny would be back soon.

Jenny would be back soon.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been dozing when he became aware of someone hovering by his bed. He tried to reach for a non-existent gun until the signature scent hit him.

"Jen?"

"Hi. How are you feeling?" His skin tingled with the warmth of relief as she placed a hand against his forehead, and then leaned over to kiss him.

"Meh," he mumbled as he reached for her hand and pressed it against his mouth. "Why're you back early .."

"Needed to see you," she whispered against his skin before caressing his face and placing another kiss to his lips.

The fluttering in his chest took him by surprise, and the words "missed you, Jen," tumbled out of his mouth before he was aware that he was saying them.

"Missed you too. How are you feeling? Really?"

"Like crap," he admitted. Surprised how easily the admission fell from his lips.

"Well Pacci called," Jen said as she continued to stroke his face. "We have the next twelve days off. He's leaving for DC tonight and G's shacking up with some Italian girl over in Sorrento."

"So that leaves you'n'me," he slurred.

"Yup, you and me."

"Wanna get outta here for a few days?"

Jen laughed. "When you're better."

"I'm better," he insisted.

"Sure you are," she said as she kissed him again.

"I'll let you drive .."

"Where would you want to go?"

"Somewhere."

"That helps a lot, Jethro."

"Pick somewhere you like. Don't care as long as you're there."

"_Oh make him stop before I throw up .._"

Gibbs groaned, and Jen looked up to see Pat huddled in an armchair at the far end of the room

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough," Pat said happily as she bit into a crunchy apple.

"Pat .."

"Oh Jen, Jen .." Pat replied as she got up and slipped into her coat. "It's an open secret. _Everybody knows_."


End file.
